Andy McNab - Dark winter

Without needing to be told, I bent over and touched my toes. The rubber glove snapped on behind me, then came the KY. The inspection only took a couple of seconds. When he'd finished, he slid the door open, picked up the bin-liner and threw it into the skip. The gloves followed.

That was it: I was completely naked, no kit, just five bottles of DW sitting in a box on the floor with labels hanging off them.

The door slid closed again, but at least the light stayed on. Then off we went, Grey gobbing off on the cell, even laughing from time to time. I didn't know what he found the funniest: the KY-jelly trick, or me flapping about getting dropped.

We stopped at lights, slowed at junctions, turned right and left. Pedestrians splashed past in the rain. Sometimes I could hear car radios, or vehicles ticking over next to us. I tried to ignore the cold and my plucked-chicken skin, and just kept a tight grip on DW. I had no idea how far we'd gone – for all I knew he could have been circling two blocks continuously, trying to disorientate me.

We came to a standstill again, but this time the cab door opened and I heard a chain rattling, and the creak of gates. The van rolled forward, then the engine died and all I could hear was the endless drumming of the rain. Wherever we'd been going, I got the feeling we'd arrived.

The side door opened. We were in a yard. Two steps in front of me was a wall of brown, wet, grimy bricks. Set into it was an open door that led into a very small, grungy hallway. There was another door a few steps inside, and some stairs to the left of it.

'Come, come!' Grey ushered me in as if I'd just arrived for a dinner party. I stepped out on to the cold wet tarmac. DW was in my right hand. I couldn't see anything but high brick walls and the shiny slate roofs of neighbouring houses. We couldn't have been driving for more than half an hour, so we must still have been in London. I didn't have a clue where, though. I just hoped Suzy did.

A couple of paces got me into the hallway. I could smell mildew and spicy cooking. The staircase was steep, narrow, and covered with greasy carpet that led up into the darkness. Grey stood behind me and pushed open the interior door. We were in a derelict restaurant kitchen. There was no direct light, just whatever sneaked through the square of glass in each of the two swing doors the far side of the room. It was strange that it still smelt: nobody could have cooked here for years.

He curled his finger in front of my face and whispered, 'Come, come.' We moved past a series of old pots and pans and all sorts of other kitchen stuff that still sat on the oven and worktops. The floor tiles were freezing under my bare feet.

He stopped just short of the doors and turned to face me. I could just about see his eyes in the quarter-light, and the finger that went up to his lips. 'Look.' He pointed at the window. 'Look.'

I put my nose against the glass, still keeping a firm grip on the bottles. Most of the furniture in the old restaurant was stacked against the walls, but Kelly was sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. She had her back to me, facing the street.

Navy stood over her. One of the unstacked tables had a little lamp on it, illuminating his face and the knife in his hand. I wondered if it was the same blade that had dealt with Carmen and Jimmy.

Even if she'd been facing the other way Kelly wouldn't have seen me. She was blindfolded, her hands and feet tied, still wearing her Old Navy T-shirt, her hair a knotted mess.

I took a deep breath. I wanted to call out to let her know I was there and she was safe. But I knew I had to stay calm. She was alive, and we were in the same place. That would have to do for now.

Grey started pulling on my shoulder. 'Come, come.' He was sounding even more excited. Maybe he wasn't taking me to dinner after all; maybe we were going to a fucking funfair.

I followed him back to the bottom of the stairs. This time, light was coming from the landing above. The outside door was still open, letting in the rain. He invited me up the narrow steps. 'This way, this way, please.'

When I was about half-way up, the source appeared on the landing. Without acknowledging me, he switched off the light, then went back into a long, narrow lounge. I paused in the doorway. The red velour curtains were closed, but there was no mistaking the TV, which still had BBC News 24 on mute, and the line of ornaments. I'd had a picture of them in my bumbag for the last couple of days. The rest of the room was new to me. A green three-piece was arranged around the TV, and his raincoat hung over the back of the nearest armchair. Against the wall, to the right, was a small dark-wood table with two chairs.

The fireplace was decorated with grey 1930s tiles, and an equally ancient gas fire was fitted in the grate. It wasn't on. Arranged along the mantelpiece were more ornaments like the ones on the TV, chunky brass or glass replicas of mosques. Hanging above them was a picture of Mecca during the Haj, along with family photos: a silver-haired couple and a marriage in traditional dress. Two other doors leading from the room were closed.

'Come in. Your child is OK, yes?' The source was on the settee, watching the silent TV. A cell phone rested next to him on the arm. He still wore his suit jacket, but he'd taken off his tie and left the top shirt button done up. The fourth sports bag was lying at his feet.

Ken Livingstone was live, his hair soaked, dozens of mikes shoved in his face. The caption told us: 'Mayor has no information of attack, all efforts directed at restoring power to tube'.

The next caption was a news update. Unnamed Foreign Office official informs BBC of imminent biological attack on tube system. Government withholding information about public safety. Government spokesman says report unfounded, calls for public to stay calm.

The Yes Man must have let Simon out on Sunday, thinking the job was done. Maybe Simon had too, until he heard about the tube closures.

It wouldn't be long before Sundance and Trainers found him. Sundance would have his arm in a sling, but that wouldn't hold him back. He'd nearly kicked me to death two years ago; Simon wouldn't last long. Sad, but I did warn him.

I waited in the doorway, using the opportunity to check below me. The white-painted door from the kitchen was just opening. Shadows fell on the bottom of the stairs. 'Please… please let me go.'

They were carrying her out to the van.

Fuck 'em, I might never see her again.

'Kelly!'

The box went down on the carpet and I jumped down the stairs.

'Nick! Nick!'

I virtually fell into them in the hallway. My hands grabbed at her blindfold as she thrashed about, her hands and legs still tied. 'It's OK, I'm here. Everything's OK.'

Her blindfold came down as a pair of massive hands closed round my neck, forcing me to my knees. I glimpsed her petrified face as she was picked up again by Grey and Navy. Tears streamed down her cheeks. 'Sorry, Nick, I'm sorry… no Disneyland…'

I couldn't answer. I couldn't even breathe.

Navy's hand went over her mouth, and all I could see was her eyes, jumping about with fear. A second or two later, she was gone. The door closed and the hands released me. I lay on the floor, fighting for air.

The source stood over me as I recovered.

I looked up. 'Why can't she stay with me here?'

'She's not going far. Why are you so stupid? You need to stay calm, for her sake. I have stopped them killing her. Those are their orders. If you wanted to talk to your child, you should have just asked. Come, come with me.'

I followed him upstairs, coughing up stuff and trying to breathe. I had to keep calm. He was right. Sparking up wasn't going to help her.

He picked up the bottles and went into the lounge but I stalled in the doorway again, listening for the van.